


Kings and Queens of Promise

by WinterSong247



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate History, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Aunts & Uncles, Awful Stannis, Bittersweet, F/M, Falling In Love, House Baratheon, House Lannister, House Stark, Kings & Queens, Playing the Game, Queen Myrcella Baratheon, Romantic Angst, Storm's End (ASoIaF), Time Travel, War of the Five Kings, Westeros, What Could Have Been, What-If, Winterfell, i wish
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:35:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23926240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterSong247/pseuds/WinterSong247
Summary: Myrcella Baratheon wakes up next to a very naked Robb Stark, a King in the North, but to her a boy she knew once when her family visited Winterfell ages ago. How they ended up in a compromising position when she was supposed to be on her way to Dorne and he on his way to chop off some Lannisters' heads is a million golden dragons question.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark, Myrcella Baratheon/Robb Stark, Ramsay Bolton/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 47
Kudos: 185





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone and Welcome! The newest try at a Robb\Myrcella pairing and a little fantasy of a world that Could have been if… 
> 
> Please bear with me and the things that are unclear at the start will be explained:)
> 
> I don’t own anything but the plot and some OC’s.
> 
> Hope you like the Prologue small as it is. The actual chapters of course will be longer. Leave me a line or two, I really want to know if you like how it starts. 
> 
> Cheers!

_**Prologue** _

Myrcella’s eyes fluttered open only to be greeted with a blinding sun that in turn caused her to revoke the action. The smell of an almost burned firewood flared her nostrils and in her frenzy state she didn’t understand how she could feel such a heat in the middle of winter if the fire was already non existent. Young woman curled deeper under the furs and her head hit the source of the heat.

_Under the furs? Since when…._

When her eyes flickered open for the second time and the waves of sleep rapidly left her mind she came face to…a strong looking bare shoulder and her hand on an equally strong-looking chest. Fist she wanted to scream as her heart started racing in her chest, that in turn made her breathing uneven, fast…..

Last she closed her eyes in the middle of the sea as she was being shipped to Dorne for an impending marriage to Trystane Martell as a political alliance her family calculated. Waking up like this… Moving was an option but she didn’t want the man her body seemed to be glued to to wake up just yet. Assessing the situation was incredibly difficult, their position was the main distraction, his scent was the second. He smelled of wet wood and leather and it drove her to urges she was not accustomed to feeling. Their legs were hooked together, his hand covering hers on his chest. But it was obvious that he wasn’t forcing her, more even his grip was somewhat protective. His head was facing the door making it impossible for her to see his face for the time being if she didn’t want to risk waking him yet, until she could understand what was going on. He had dark rich auburn curls and white skin that never saw the sun, his hands felt calloused on her silky skin, he was toned and though they were not standing she could see he had at least a head on her. They were covered with furs and although she was sure she’s never before seen the chamber they were in, it ignited the strangest feeling inside her…like a long lost home. _Not that I’ve ever been to this home_.

While Myrcella tore her head up to scout around with her eyes her long hair must have cascaded on her companion’s neck and she suddenly felt him stirring as his head slowly turned her way and she sucked in a breath, letting a small gasp out. She was in bed with Robb Stark. They were both in a VERY compromising position. And he was waking up…


	2. Chapter I: Robb I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If anyone thought the King in the North knew what was happening....think again.

**_Chapter I_ **

_Robb I_

As Robb blinked the sleep away a strange feeling engulfed him throwing his mind in statics. Wasn’t he on a battlefield with his comrades just a moment before? And now he was warm, his sore muscles relaxed, his aching bones balanced, a delicate hand on his chest grounding his lately almost always racing heart.

At that his trail of thoughts stopped and he jerked upright as did his companion on the bed, untangling their previously interwind legs. Her hand flew straight to his mouth and she begged with utmost sincere eyes staring at him but a strong voice:

“Hush…hushhh. If you don’t stay quiet we might both be dead in the next blink.”

She had long golden heir and shining green eyes that reminded Robb of two jewels . She did seem distantly familiar but nothing he could put his hand on while in a scandalous situation this morning was turning into. She was holding a bed sheet to her chest with one hand while still holding another to his mouth. _Small and very soft hand_ , his brain registered.

Robb took another breath through his nostrils while the stranger in his bed monitored his progress carefully before offering:

“I woke up moments ago. Before you ask, I have no idea what’s going on, I have not seen this place before and to me you’re only a distant memory, a boy I once saw in the North…”

She carefully tugged her hand to her side. At this Robb seemed to piece his own memory together and it was weird how he could remember her as if it happened only yesterday. For a split second he was back as his seven and ten self leading her to their sits during the feast his father held in the name of the King, her father. She truly was Myrcella Baratheon of the ruling House of Westeros, long blonde waves and distinctive green eyes, her mother’s beauty with no vicious character of Queen Consort, kind words, smart beyond her years of four and ten….

But this in front of him was no small girl. It was a woman in her own right. Not only in looks (and despite whatever circumstances there could be nobody in their right mind will deny the heiress in that department) but apparently in self-control either. She stopped him right when he was about to go flying off the handle and reaching for the sward, giving him some straight answers to the questions he hasn’t yet formed.

“I would be grateful if…we could get something…” She cleared her throat gaining his attention. “…something to cover ourselves.”

That moment Robb realised how stupid he probably seemed to her. Yet a word to utter and a total nudity between them. A rose touched her cheeks without her permission ( _definitely without her permission_ ).

Instead as soon as she mentioned it his eyes spied what looked like both their robes tangled in front of the bed, Robb stood up to reach for them, making his female counterpart’s eyes widen up as she swiftly turned the other way from him still heavily covering herself with the sheet.

He chuckled mildly with no humour but as soon as he secured his grey robe , he picked up the other one, in rich wine red, and stepped forward to hand it to Myrcella. She accepted but turned uncomfortable again.

“Could you turn around?” It was said in a level voice but he could see the signs of her nervousness. The tips of her ears turned bright red and she tried to avoid his eyes the best she could.

He did though turn around and went to stand by the window. He had no idea if the privacy statutes applied to the woman you’ve obviously slept with the night before.

“So you woke…” He started and was slightly taken aback at how his voice sounded different to himself, raspier mayhaps.

“…Yes, only moments before you did…” He heard her shuffling with the robe and imagined she must have bit on her lower lip as if debating about something. Next moment she added, “Your Grace.”

“Don’t.” He sighed and chuckled. “We are definitely in the situation where it’s too late for courtesies.”

“So you too don’t remember how you…we ended up here?” She came to stand by him at the window.

It was serene, he couldn’t think of a better way to put it, like it wasn’t the first time he was with this beautiful woman, like it wasn’t the first sunrise they met together, like they are used to standing together holding the window frame with their respective shoulders. The odd welcoming familiarity danced around in the air and Robb felt enchanted by it.

“I don’t. Last thing I remember is that me and my bannermen were about to take Ashemark and…then nothing.” He looked at her hoping if maybe she has more luck in deducing what happened.

“I was on a ship to Dorne.” Myrcella looked up as if trying to recall a distant memory, brows furrowing in confusion. “But this is impossible. Even if somebody let’s say drugged me and dragged me here it’s still too big of a distance. No drug could keep you asleep so long without killing you…”

Robb could swear his jaw hit the floor. _How in a name of Old Gods does she know things like that?!_

“Who would do it anyway? Neither of our enemies would do this…and to be quite honest _this_ …. “ She ranted on now indicating to the bed with her head and the rise of her eyebrows in a suggestive manner. “…doesn’t look like kidnapping or anything else I can imagine for that matter.”

_So logical, and so not like any other ladies that he knew_. Robb realised that moment that **_she_** was a granddaughter of Tywin Lannister, extraordinary tactician though hated throughly by all the Starks but nevertheless Robb did feel some kind of respect for the man for all the war accomplishments of his. Apparently some of those talents were not lost on Myrcella, and of course she was _so_ beautiful…ethereal.Robb could feel that looking at her long enough was making him plainly stupid. Like he was a simple man with no brain and only his desires because her glowing light, her beauty was robbing him off the ability to think straight. But that finally brought him to a thought that has been picking at him ever since he woke.

“How old are you?”

“What?” She looked at him dumbfounded.

“How old are you? If we saw each other in Winterfell almost two and half years ago, you are to be about six and ten?”

She just nodded still not getting what he was referring to.

“Myrcella, you don’t look like six and ten.” He said finally, raving his eyes again up and down her body and face which in turn made her very aware of herself, he could read that in her expression. “You look older.”

She took a moment to inspect him in return and seemed to realise what he meant. She took in the the muscles he’s gained, his ( _apparently_ ) massive chest and broad shoulders. Her emerald eyes came to rest on his face and he saw her milky hand lift to touch it, at least that’s what he thought. Robb caught himself waiting for her touch with an anticipation that made his heart increase its rate. But it never came. Her hand froze in the air as she caught herself and the myst, in which they seemed to be coated in, broke.

“Yes…I understand what you mean.” Myrcella whispered. “I don’t remember you having a scar.”

She pointed her hand to his right cheek. Robb instantly put his fingertips to his face and could feel a pointy arrow-like formation on his stubbled cheek, obviously the one that she wanted to touch only moments before.

“That’s because I don’t have it…”

“What does it all mean?…”

When a sharp knock on the door came Robb took a step forward in front of Myrcella subconsciously covering her with his body. After one more look and the woman behind him Robb turned to the door:

“Enter!”

The servant girl he had not seen before pushed through and bowed.

“Your Grace, My Queen. Lord Bran is breaking his fast already and you asked to inform you when Lady Sansa and Lord Snow will arrive.”

It felt like every word she said hit him like a wall of heavy stones.

“Thank you.” Robb said but his voice was full of those raspy undertones he still could not recognise.

The maid bowed again and left the two, backing from the chamber.

Robb risked a look at Myrcella who mostly mirrored his confused expression. He softly touched her shoulder to make sure she was alright, at least as much as possible.

“Did she just call me ‘My Queen’?”

Before Robb could say anything she yelled suddenly in pain and her hands flew to her head covering hew ears, making her body double over. Robb caught her in his arms because it was evident that she couldn’t keep standing on her own.

“Myrcella!”

But he didn’t hear her answer or if there even was one for his own head combusted in a severe pain and his legs buckled under him. All Young Wolf could do was make sure when both of them fall down, she would end up on top of his body to lessen the fall.

Both clutching their heads. Both hearts beating out of their chests. In a pool of her velvety robe on the floor, one of his hands still holding her body close to his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to thank everyone who's invested time to read. You are amazing! please, leave me a line or two, I'm VERY interested in your thoughts! Yours...


	3. Chapter II: Myrcella I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New and old memories flood Myrcella's head with force as she recollects what actions were altered in this reality and where it all started.

**_Chapter II_ **

_Myrcella I_

She was gripping the reins of her snow white mare with such force that she doesn’t have anything to compare it with in all her years of riding one. Thanks to Uncle Jaime Myrcella started her horse riding lessons very early for any girl and inexplicably early for a royal female.

But she was thankful for that. And for other lessons he bestowed on her. She has always been close with her uncle, both her uncles really. But where she shared just a tender association with Tyrion (a kiss on a cheek, a story from him once in a while, a smile she always had in store for the Dwarf), her bond with her other uncle was much stronger. He didn’t have as much time for her as she would like, he was in Kingsguard after all, awarded veteran; when he wasn’t, her grandfather always found business for Jaime to attend to as well. Though their time was limited her mother’s twin silently and without any permission from her parents took it upon himself to teach her things that were usually out of reach for young female royals…or forbidden at all: how to ride a horse, how to defend herself, some tricks she wasn’t sure she’d ever need.

Myrcella was always a neat scholar. First because she needed the knowledge to use for her own and Tommen’s protection against Joffrey who has become obnoxiously difficult to be in the same room with ever since she reached nine years of age. As time passed he’d become more and more cruel to his younger siblings not to mention other human beings. She assumed Uncle Jaime knew that too.

But it wasn’t the only reason why she took in everything Uncle Jaime taught her. When she was very young Myrcella found that she deferred a lot from the other girls, as the time passed ladies, of Red Keep, and most likely South in general. She wasn’t interested in new dress designs, gems her Queen Mother adored, shallow talk of the Court. She had to adapt and excel at that nonetheless but she didn’t have to love it. Myrcella craved knowledge and adventure. All those sneaked out books from the Grand Library of Red Keep. At nights when everybody was sleeping and she slipped in one of her huge armchairs, under the light of a lone candle, the stories took her away East, across the Narrow Sea, to the mystery lands of Essos with it’s great cultures still ultimately unknown to Westeros; or the most South she could imagine, to Dorne, where Warrior Princess Nymeria once found her home, where men and women are taught that they are equals; sometimes they take her far North, where life’s harder but simpler, where honer and truth is the keep of values and not gold or the ability to play the _game_.

Those nights she would dream of sailing far away from the lands she is used to her home. She would take to the open waters. Smoking Sea, Sea of Dorne, she was daring to imaging even the Shivering Sea that crushed its waves at one side of Essos, so far away and dangerous that no man or woman were heard of ever taking their direction there. But in her dreams she would. If needed she would call upon her cousin Shianah who was only slightly older than her, a prodigy firstborn daughter of her Uncle Stannis, and who was a genius navigator. Together they would take her marvellous ship, _Storm’s Fury_ , and go where no one else would, not even the Krakens.

But the day always broke the night and Myrcella had to put on one of her puffy pink dresses, let her maids fuss around her, doing her hair and almost spoon-feeding her berries and milk like she was a babe, be a nice little Princess during her royal lessons with her Septa, prey to the Seven, and endure the hostility of her older brother to prevent his lashing out on their younger brother. Sometimes he was less cruel and the tournament simply ended with his harsh words. Other times she was more stupid and let her thoughts out of her mouth right to his face. Joffrey hated when anyone answered him, or, Gods forbid, corrected him. Thats when he used force. And he for being all vile and heinous to other people, has always been engrossed in weapons, the one thing he truly cherished and was interested in. The weapons in his arsenal changed according to periods of time. A time of a whip Myrcella rememberers all too vividly. There are long faded scars of her back that are ready to testify to that. But not her face. Joffrey was always hysterical and cruel and not smart but he wasn’t plain idiot.

_Do not worry, Sunshine, no one will know, we’ll never let that pretty face of yours get marred, we’re still gonna need to marry you off somewhere politically fruitful. But as long as you have that flawless face and your purity it will not be hard at all!_

But she still would never go to her Lord Father or Uncle Jaime, lions never do that. They do not crawl, and cry to anybody. Lions do not falter. And though there is a Crowned Stag on their Banners she feels in her heart that she is a Lion, she knows it with her soul.

But that was fine, physical never worried Myrcella too much. After a time she realised that that kind of abuse would never get Joffrey the results he was lusting after: she would not break, not by his hand. What scared her the most was that the little shit saw it too and that’s when he jumped to tormenting Tommen because that would get to his sister the most.

And then that fanatic was given the power. Their Lord Father, Robert I Baratheon, the King of Seven Kingdoms and the Protector of the Realm, the only one who could restrain his clearly over-cruel firstborn with only a look, was gone.

Joffrey put the crown on his own head first thing in the morning before they could so much as weep for their dead father. The days that followed reminded Myrcella of hell. The tyrant on the Iron Throne with their Mother, now Queen Regant, as his most loyal subject and counsellor _(not that the new King ever listened to anyone_ ). Even Grandfather Tywin and Uncle Tyrion though hating each other furiously were giving each other doomed glares. The Boy King drowning himself in southern wine during his coronation celebration days, taking countless ladies to his chambers that were brought out of there in some hours, dead, with awful signature arrows sticking out of their lifeless bodies.

And then one day he ordered to imprison Lord Stark who has been fiercely loyal to her Father serving as the Hand of the King for the last year. For Treason. Suddenly Myrcella knew that she couldn’t wait any longer, no more silence. This time she would not go speechless and unseen. Too much were on the scales: Tommen, Sansa ( _another victim of a Monster, broken, only a shell of a girl she'd met in the North_ ), all those killed girls (each not older than four and ten, each somebody’s daughter, sister, friend), her people…the people that her ruling family gave an oath to protect and serve….

So, knowing what she knew, what she gathered through all those years existing in the Red Keep, she told Ser Arys, her Sworn Shield, the man who’s never backed away from a promise and the most loyal Kingsguard she’s ever known, that she’d be with her Queen Mother the whole day and he wouldn’t be needed, and made him promise he’d be with Tommen, protecting him, until the next time she puts her eyes on him. Ser Arys Oakheart, being the noble knight that he was, never saw a deceit as he was tricked to be with the young Prince until her return.

She skipped from the Castle unnoticed, it wasn’t that hard when you know your way around. All works like a clock. When she was but a small child of six or seven she’s heard her Grandfather tell Uncle Jaime as they were both paying more attention to a map on the table than the little lioness at their feet that _Routine is the biggest enemy_. It depended on a point of view, she decided. Routine was her best friend in her deception.

Hood up she made it into the always erupting busy city. Long time ago she found a map of King’s Landing in the Grand Library and was enamoured by it for days to an end. She could find her way around it blindfolded. Myrcella had no trouble getting to the spot where she was suppose to meet the Devil, that’s what she called the man she’s called upon for help, she knew it was a deal with the Devil but unfortunately she did not have a choice in that matter.

Right at the Old Gates of the city, that were not used as the entrance for a long time as they were half destroyed, waiting for her, holding the reins of a beautiful white horse, Petyr Baelish stood tall in his greys and blacks with a small mockingbird at his collar.

“Hope you realise, Your Highness, that if somebody is to find out I was involved, the King will have my head.”

“It’s the silence that I’m seeking in you, Lord Baelish.” Myrcella said in a soft voice with only a hint of authority, excepting his hand to help get on a horse. “You haven’t seen me today at all, in return no one will ever know who helped me. And…I will be in your debt.”

He gave her a surprised look as if he's never expected her to be the one he’d be having a conversation like that with.

“Until I see you next, then, My Princess.”

“I expect, you’ll be on a winning side, Lord Baelish,” She replied calmly, though adrenaline was still flying high through her veins as she followed her plan to the end. Then Myrcella added. “No matter which side that is.”

“I’m a practical man, Princess.” His smile was devilish, and his little grey eyes were happily plummeting her face, as if he’s found himself a new source of entertainment and a new toy all in one.

“I’ll make sure to remember that.” She smiled and turned her horse away from King’s landing, facing North.

Next moment she was gone, leaving a smirking Master of Coin watching the Southern Princess on a white mare disappear. He never did expect the only royal daughter to become more than a pawn or a bargaining cheap in this delicious game he praised himself of being so good at. But she definitely had the disposition to become a prominent player, mayhaps even a strong one but he wouldn’t go so far as to predict it yet…not yet. But he would grant the anonymity the Princess wished, he would not utter a word to anyone. They would all find her gone soon enough themselves. Thus she would still be in his dept.

“Myrcella Baratheon….who knew.” He squashed pebbles with his heel as he turned to make his way back to the Castle and sent a final glance behind his back as if to make sure that the golden haired woman was no vision. She was no longer in his line of sight. “Who knew…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Again I appreciate that you read the story! Please leave a review or suggestions because your opinion matter to me!
> 
> I also wanted to warn you a little bit. There will be flashbacks and even flashbacks in flashbacks but I think you'd get it once you read it. It's just the way I like to write, playing with time mostly.
> 
> I'd also like to dive a little in Myrcella's character study since I believe her to be one of the characters the most underestimated when she could be very interesting with more insight provided. 
> 
> Anyway, until next chapter,
> 
> Always yours...


	4. Chapter III: Robb II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for being so late with it. But I had to wright out two parts of the Coronation Arc because it just was in my head and I seriously had to pour that out or risk becoming slightly catatonic !)))
> 
> I'll try to be better!
> 
> Hope you enjoy the chapter guys!

**_Chapter III_ **

_Robb II_

She was a mirage. Illusion. For she couldn’t be real.

Truth be told Grey Wind felt or ( _most likely_ ) smelled her first. Robb was on his way to his chamber when his direwolf all but tornado-ed to the gates. The acting Lord of the household followed him fast and soon he could see the commotion there and a lone rider on the back of the blanch horse nothing but break through the closing gates at the last moment.

The guards were surrounding the stranger and his wolf was crawling and barking but not at the rider but their own guards.

“What is the meaning of this?” He questioned loudly. “Grey Wind, come here.”

But again to his utter disbelief his ever loyal companion stayed by the horse though he seized the growling at his people.

Robb pulled a hand showing his man to back down as he neared the snow white mare. The hood fell from the rider as soon as he came closer revealing long sunshine curls loosely clasped on the back of the head and what he supposed a skin of silk. The moonlight illuminated her hair, her skin, her horse and suddenly she was made porcelain.

Robb could not believe he was seeing Myrcella Baratheon. More than a year after they’ve been introduced when the royal family visited Winterfell. He was rather smitten with her back then but she was still only a girl. This Myrcella definitely has flowered into a young woman. Her face lost the childish puffiness and took shape of soft feminine features, making her full lips and doe eyes stand out. Her body, though hidden by a rather thin cloak, obviously went through the same transformation.

“My Lord.” Her melodic voice held a knack of urgency and Robb realised he was staring unapologetically.

He kicked the ground with his boot to boast the speed to get to where she was as he held his hands up for her to help her slip from the horse. “Princess.”

She all but fell on him, her back to the mare’s side and her hands on his chest as she was breathing heavily and her legs obviously buckled under her.

_Shit for how long was she on a horse? What is she doing here in the North? Alone…._

Young Wolf realised that all the actions he was taking at the moment were lacking all the respect he should have for her position but she seemed frozen and out of strength…and he could care less for their titles.

Robb supported her with both his hands simultaneously shouting to get the stable boy and help the poor tired animal that was threatening to fall itself. Then he locked the young woman in his hands holding her to his chest and slowly they made their way inside the castle with Grey Wing at their side. She reached a hand to scrap behind his ear, giving an almost invisible smile, and receiving a pleased noise from the wolf.

“Hey Grey Wind.”

“He remembers you.” At that Myrcella gave him what he could only interpret as a sad smile. “And haven’t we agreed you call me Robb?”

“When was it?” She huffed but her lips pulled in a small grin.

“Still applies if you ask me.” They reached the dimly lit chamber with a big fireplace that was erupting flames. Two young maids were waiting there.

Robb placed Myrcella in front of the fire on the furs previously placed on the floor and barked orders that made the girls disappear. He had a million questions for her but he needed to heat her icy bones before he could ask any of them. It was inexplainable feeling he got in the pit of his stomach seeing her again, back in his home, with her golden hair all over the place and that gracefulness she possessed despite even being frozen half to death.

Meanwhile his wolf pushed his head on her lap as her hands started stroking its fur in a slow rhyme, absent-minded moves as he was sure she tried not to die from fatigue and cold. He took his cloak off and put it on her shoulders securely, not really an action he would bestow on a high-born (v _ery high-born_ ) lady but she was shaking so he needed to warm her up quickly.

“Warmer?” He asked taking a place on the floor on the other side of her, not occupied with the giant direwolf.

She only nodded still unable to produce a coherent word since heat finally fought its way through her frozen body.

“This is….” She tried after a minute as she turned to him, looking in the eyes. And he was lost again, like when he saw her on the horseback, but now that the fire cracked beside them she seemed even more beautiful to him. “…important.”

Her brows furrowed.

“You will soon be getting ravens from the capitol.”

She was talking in a low whisper partly because she was still shaking slightly and her throat was very dry and partly because maybe she didn’t want anyone to hear but him. Robb was about to reach for the jar of wine on the table some feet fromwhere they were sitting on the floor but her fingertips grasped on his forearm stoping him immediately.

“No, listen to me… Joffrey…the King has imprisoned your father, Lord Stark, and he has Sansa in the palace. You need to save them.”

Each word hit him like a gash of wind, his eyes full of worry, wide, as he looked in her big green ones.

“I don’t know what he will do but my brother is a monster. And now this monster is on the thrown and has an unlimited power.”

She finally let his hand go but this time he used that same trick to grab her’s.

“How are you here? Why would they let you come here?”

He wasn’t accusing, somehow he doubted she was capable of such cruel deception. More than anything he was bewildered of how she got to Winterfell all alone.

“When they don’t expect anything at all from you, it’s easy to surprise them.”

Was all she said.

The maids brought the mulled wine and blankets. Robb told them to wake his Lady Mother. Grey Wind freed the Princess of his hold though stayed by her, putting his head on his pows and snored softly pretending to be asleep.

“They will never tell you what’s really happening in the Capitol.” She explained. “The ravens. They will tell you lies, say he committed treason or whatever other fraud they will come up with. I just…”

Her eyes watered again, she was so out-of-this-world-tired, and she licked her dried lips again.

“I just thought I’d give you more time…”

With that Robb yanked her to him by the arm he was still holding her with and enveloped her in a tight hug, emitting a gasp from her. He was worried sick for his father and his sisters…and for her too. He had no idea how this fragile-looking girl had accomplished all of it and he didn’t even want to stop to think of the sacrifices she’s made and the punishments she was due to as soon as her family find out where she was. He would make sure nothing will befall her. He felt her small hand, the one that was free of his iron hold, wrap around his back, tentatively accepting his embrace, and his heat, and his unspoken words. _What has she been through this time they’ve spent apart after their first meeting?_ Questions and thoughts still mashed in his head when he felt her holding him closer, as if she let go he’d become a pile of ash. And he knew he wasn’t the only one scared for his family and for the world that was about to change and never go back to the way it was before.

That’s exactly how his Lady Mother found them: on the floor in front of the fire place holding one another for dear life, the wolf guarding them. Her son, man grown and honest, and the Princess of Seven Kingdoms, sweet and kind girl she remembered her as, a beautiful young woman now. But dark clouds and bad omens were over all their heads because the unstable equilibrium has already been shifted without them knowing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you think! ;)


	5. Chapter IV: Myrcella II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your feedback is LOVE, guys! Thank you so much for taking interest in the story!
> 
> I expect mooreeee! 
> 
> Cheers,
> 
> yours...

Chapter IV

Myrcella II

As both of them came back to at the same time, Myrcella took a deep breath trying to calm her rapid heartbeat but didn’t move from her place on the floor, her head on Robb’s abdomen. 

“My head…” She heard Robb say, imagining him with his hand touching his forehead though he didn’t try to get up either and for that she was thankful. “I felt it split.”

She didn’t say anything, just watched the ceiling with a funny wooden pattern.

“What is that?” Robb was saying. “It’s like I have two sets of memories now. What really happened and….another ones that….it feels like they happened too.”

There was still no answer and Myrcella felt him touch her shoulder softly then:

“Are you alright? You are going to stay silent?”

Myrcella cleared her throat slightly. It felt uncharacteristically dry.

“I should have been brave.” She said in a whisper. “I thought about doing it, a hundred times, I thought of coming to you for you were the only one I believed could stop my brother…but I…I thought if I leave, he would kill Tommen or Sansa… I should have…”

She felt the man behind her squeeze her shoulder lightly and retreat his hand. 

“But what is this place? Are we in a dream?”

“No.” Myrcella said definitely. “Doesn’t feel like a dream. Marvellous headache is a testament to that.”

His stomach made a dipping move as he chuckled.

“Feels more like a different reality. Like in all those stories.”

“What stories?” The King in the North asked as she felt him start to play with her long hair most likely absentmindedly.

“Āeksios Ōño, the Lord of the Light religion tells of reflecting glass set on fire that the Red Priests can go through to see another worlds…”

“Is that Valyrian?” Robb asked, his voice dripped with surprise.

“High Valyrian.” She replied, voice slightly higher than usual, as she felt the tips of her ears go most likely turning red.

“How in a name of Old Gods you know High Valyrian?!”

“I don’t! Well…very little. There was a book in the…”

And then Robb started laughing. A deep throaty sound that vibrated all through his body and unintentionally was passed on to her own. She couldn’t remember him do that when they met in Winterfell. He probably laughed there too..she just couldn’t remember. She felt herself smiling beside herself.

“You’re a nerd!” He couldn’t stop. “I can’t believe it. Beautiful…nerd.”

“Sto-o-op!” She tried to reach up and hit his arm from her position but it seemed like a futile move as he kept laughing still. 

Did he just call her beautiful? 

She knew she was, she was aware of her long Lannister honey curls and slender figure and two gem stones for eyes (as the Lords of the court put it) but hearing Robb Stark say it brought a light feeling to her stomach. 

The King in the North on the other hand seemed to not have any troubles stating the obvious. He finally stopped laughing though his Tully eyes still held that boyish glint as he cleared his throat.

“I think we should forsake the floor.” 

She couldn’t agree more and moved to raise herself up from him into the sitting position to let him stand up fast enough and offer her his hand. 

Myrcella checked herself in a big reflecting glass in the corner of the chamber to make sure her robe was intact when she heard it:

“Momma!” 

A bell of a small child’s voice rang and the next moment Myrcella felt herself falling to her knees as the little girl’s frame hit her with a fierce embrace. Her daughter. She had no idea how she knew it but the small creature in her hands, the one she’s holding to her chest…close…with no intention of letting go…was her daughter. She couldn’t be more than three or four years of age. One of her hands on the girl’s back and the other caressing her daughter’s soft auburn, almost dark, locks. Myrcella has never seen a child more beautiful. But what do I know? She’s so bias.

She could feel as though she was back to the Storm’s End, her father’s youngest brother Renly’s seat. Greyish storm clouds, winds blowing and the lightning… As if those bolts of lightning hit her and she’s changed, she’s different. Just like that…in a blink.

“Are you alright, momma?” A girl asks and Myrcella has to restrain herself because truthfully her breath was stolen from her and her heart started swelling the way she never knew possible. 

“I am.” She released the child from her hug but didn’t let her go, pulling one of her hands to rest on the girl’s rosy cheek. 

That caused a sweet grin and two dimples to appear as the girl looked behind Myrcella and disentangled really fast from her mother to run to the bed where Robb was sitting, shocked, but with the same glowing eyes and understanding that Myrcella had.

She could see that he knew it too. Looking into the little girl’s emerald eyes he could feel it. 

“Hey Princess.” He said in almost a whisper as the child threw herself into his arms producing some very excited noises.

His eyes were closed tightly as he hugged her. Myrcella realised that she was probably the only one who knew exactly what he was feeling, loving this child, their child, that neither of them have seen before this day. 

“I’m terribly sorry, Your Grace!” The older woman’s voice interrupted an unexpected reunion as the Nun hurried into their chambers. “The Princess ran away…”

“It is no problem.” Myrcella smiled as she heard Robb chuckling and whispering something to the little girl in his embrace that made a fit of swan-like giggles follow. 

“Princess Joanna, please….” The woman tried again without being too authoritative in front of the royal couple. 

Joanna…like grandmother…

“Alright, alright, young Lady!” Myrcella called allowing some mercy on the nun, gesturing with one of her hands to her daughter for more persuasion. “Let me and your Lord Father prepare for the day.”

Joanna gave out a small whimper and bit adorably on her lower lip. Myrcella raised her eyebrows. What a little fox! Her eyebrows flew up even higher as she spotted Robb’s expression. He was so wrapped around the little finger (absolutely NO pun intended) that she felt her jaw fall a little.

“Now.” Myrcella’s voice didn’t raise in the slightest. Apparently the little Princess knew all the undertones of her mother for she quickly pecked Robb on a cheek and spun around running to Myrcella, taking her hand, as she was transferred to a still breathless nun. “We will see you very soon, Loveling.”

“Yes, Momma.” The child accepted, being led away. 

“And a kiss for Momma?” Myrcella couldn’t help it.

Joanna yelped and momentally was back at her mother’s feet hugging her legs until Myrcella crouched down in front of her and let the small kisses be showered on her cheeks and nose. She then kissed the top of her small head and let the nun finally take the girl away. 

Robb was standing when she closed the door and turned to him. 

“You and I….we created this. She’s ours. I can feel it. We….”

“Apparently.” Myrcella smiled because only a thought that she had given birth to something so pure and beautiful awarded her some unknown strength and boldness she’s sure she’s never felt before.

They were standing right in front of each other and for some reason Myrcella couldn’t think about anything but Robb Stark. 

Robb Stark who was her husband. Apparently.

Robb Stark who was a fierce warrior.

Robb Stark who was Joanna’s father. 

Her hand as if on its own accord slowly flew up to his cheek. To the scar that graced his face and came down to his neck. But she didn’t dare touch it, his bright blue eyes following her the entire time. 

She retreated her hand but couldn’t look away from him. 

Suddenly another set of memories flooded her head but this time she didn’t fall and crumble, her body and her mind chose to accept them rather than fight against them.


End file.
